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3 days…no acceptance

So it took me about 3 days to figure out the “system” at Charter Westbrook.

The goal, apparently was the acceptance phase. Acceptance meant that I acknowledged I had an eating disorder and that I was willing to change, to fix it, to heal. Acceptance also meant you could go outside for short periods of time, maybe a group trip to the mall, have an exercise tape (for me this was Lyle Alzado’s aerobic tape). I was obsessed with obtaining the rights to exercise to this tape because all my other activity was monitored.

I had a HUGE problem with the acceptance phase, because as the days passed and I saw the other kids, who had been there longer leaving, it always seemed to fall right about the time their insurance was running out.I would say 85-90% of my fellow fuck-ups found acceptance approx 10 days before their benefits were up. They were just as fucked up when they left as they were when they came.

I learned the system in 3 days, learned to say the right things, do the right things, attend the right groups and earned my “privileges” like a good girl. I remember 2 pretty specific incidents while I was there. The first was that black, the color, was a trip to solitary or as they called it…Reflection Time.

My father had dropped off clothes for me and one day I woke up, put as much thought into choosing clothes as you might expect with a limited selection and no one to see.

When I arrived in group the first thing the counselor said to me was “Is there something you want to share?”

ummmm not really, why?

“Well, it appears you are making a statement with your clothing selection.”

ummmm, no this is what my dad dropped off for me to wear.

“It’s all black”

me looking down and noticing for the first time….

oh ok, shrugging shoulders, sitting down in the circle on an orange chair with metal legs.

” I think you need to go change”

…I’m sure I looked at her like she had 3 heads, change why?

“Your message has been recevied” ….

me HUH??? what the hell are you talking about?

(that comment had me removed from group, stripped into a hospital gown and sent to reflection time.

That next Wednesday this woman was wearing a black pencil skirt and a black blouse with black pumps. I looked right at her and said “message received”.